


A Thing That Friends Do

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First touches, Fluff, M/M, Other, Post-Dark Cybertron, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: The former second in command of the Decepticons, trying to cheer someone up with a hug? Wheeljack wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t happening to him.





	A Thing That Friends Do

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr a while back! It was a response to a prompt from copperzealot, who asked for "Starscream/Wheeljack, first time touching each other in a more intimate manner. Hands, face touching, full body contact, whichever strikes your fancy. Please." It's now been edited, so up it goes on AO3.

He’s working on Superion—more specifically, he’s working on Air Raid today. Air Raid, as Superion’s left leg, didn’t face the brunt of Prowl-and-Devastator’s attacks. He’s not as badly damaged as Slingshot… was.

Wheeljack sighs and scrubs a hand over his faceplate, as hesets his wrench down next to him on the platform. It’s hard work, and there’s no end to it in sight. Air Raid’s condition could be worse, but Superion’s weight bearing down on him has been hampering his recovery. Both Skydive and Air Raid’s systems have been strained by the task, even with the supports holding the gestalt upright.

This would be a lot easier with someone’s help, Wheeljack thinks, then sighs out his vents. “No use wishing for something that’s not going to appear, Wheeljack,” he mutters, as the flicker of his helm fins lights up the paneling of Superion’s leg. Ratchet is off on the _Lost Light_ , and the other medics still on Cybertron have their medibays full of mecha that need their help. No one but Wheeljack can really be spared for this project.

Superion doesn’t need a medic. Or, well. He—they, the Aerialbots, all of them, are in desperate need of medical attention. But Superion needs an engineer. No one designed him. He was smashed together in an enigmatic whirlwind of forces, and it shows in the wear on the Aerialbots that make up his body. Wheeljack will need to reinforce their frames to bear the load.

It will not be easy, and it will not be quick, but he will do it.

By the end of the day, he’s tired and aching somewhere in his spark, but the thought of heading down to Blurr’s for drinks and company turns his tanks. He lingers in cleaning up his tools, glancing up at the Aerialbots now and then as he wonders if he should just stay here for a while longer. Maybe talk to them. It’s hard to tell how much of Superion is them, but being smashed together like that can’t be easy.

He’s so distracted by his thoughts that he completely misses the flash of red coming up the scaffolding.

“You look—“

The voice, unexpected, makes Wheeljack jump, even as he recognizes it as Starscream. His mood curdles more. Starscream’s overbearing personality is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Wheeljack says. It sounds tired even to him, not that Starscream seems to notice.

“I didn’t do anything,” Starscream says immediately. It comes out too quickly for Starscream to really mean it. “Honestly, Wheeljack, you should pay more attention to what’s around you.”

His nose is practically up in the air in offense, but Wheeljack doesn’t want to take the bait. This is the way Starscream is, and Wheeljack knows that. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, and it makes up Wheeljack’s mind. It’s time to head home, back to his lab. Starscream can only follow him so far before he gives up.

As Wheeljack steps past him toward the stairs, he sees Starscream wince out of the corner of his optic, but the ruler of Cybertron doesn’t apologize.

“What do you want, Starscream?” Wheeljack asks.

Starscream takes a few long, striding steps to catch up with Wheeljack, then to move past him. His thrusters clatter on the stairs as he moves. “An update on the gestalt wouldn’t go amiss,” he says.

Wheeljack stares at his back. There’s nothing he’d like less, right now.

“Oooor not?” Starscream sneaks a glance back at Wheeljack, then goes stiff when he notices Wheeljack looking. “It looks like they’re coming along,” he says, with his helm now directed completely forward. “I don’t suppose you finally know how long it will take before they’re awake again?”

Wheeljack doesn’t say anything. He said he didn’t want to, and Starscream can wait for his update until tomorrow. Starscream falls into a tense, uncomfortable silence, that Wheeljack mostly ignores. Starscream can do what he wants. That’s the point of him being in charge, here. He’ll do what he wants, and as long as it isn’t too terrible, they’ll all tolerate him. Wheeljack will tolerate him as far as the door to his lab, and then he can finally be alone.

He’s only just stepped off the final stair when Starscream breaks the silence in an unexpected way. “Stop right there,” he tells Wheeljack, swinging around and planting his thrustered feet in front of Wheeljack. He stops, fully expecting some sort of lecture, or a threat on his life for being too insubordinate for Starscream’s tastes.

Instead, Starscream gets his arms around him.

It’s so unexpected, especially from _Starscream_ , that it takes Wheeljack nearly a full minute to realize what is happening. This isn’t some sort of awkward attempt to grab him. It’s a _hug_. An awkward hug, but Wheeljack can’t say that he expected anything else from Starscream.

It breaks through his bad mood. Starscream is, in his Starscream way, trying to comfort him. He’s not doing a particularly good job of it, but… Wheeljack sighs through his vents. He wasn’t being particularly receptive to it, either.

He doesn’t get a chance to do anything else before Starscream pulls away. He seems incapable of looking Wheeljack in the optics.  “You seemed like you needed it,” he says stiffly. “And hugging each other is a thing that friends do.”

It sounds more like something Starscream is trying to convince himself of than anything he believes. It’s awkward. Uncertain. Vulnerable, even, in a way Wheeljack doesn’t think he can ever remember Starscream willingly being. The former second in command of the Decepticons, trying to cheer someone up with a hug? Wheeljack wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t happening to him.

Maybe that’s why it’s kind of working. The awkwardness seems endearing now, not domineering and insensitive as Starscream usually comes off. Maybe it’s because Starscream is so obviously new to this. Whatever it is, Wheeljack lets his fins brighten to a tired, smiling blue.  

“Yeah, Starscream,” he says, watching as Starscream’s optics dart to his faceplates with the tiniest hint of wonder, “I think I needed that.”


End file.
